A Startling Discovery
by Turcote
Summary: While Spock is in Sickbay, Kirk and McCoy make a rather...fascinating find in his quarters. New chapter finally up! Plus, earlier chapters reformatted for your reading convenience!
1. Chapter 1

-1Dis. Yah, its not mine.

I am back and posting a new story, thanks to a challenge from Schemer! And yes, this story DOES have a plot, (sort of) even if its not immediately evident. See, I have this writing problem: It always takes me forever to actually get to the main focus of the story, usually about 3 chapters. Oh well. Hopefully, you'll still have fun on the way there! Oh, and this story does have a slight reference to a part in my other ST story, but its not necessary to read the other story.

I apologize before hand for any typos in this story: I wont be able to print it off and proof read it. Im actually in Study Hall (im taking a 3 week college course) and Im actually supposed to be researching for my paper. Oh well. This is SO much more important!

Chapter 1

Kirk ambled into the Mess Hall, his expression suggesting an extreme hatred of all things living. 'Whoever invented early morning shifts' he thought darkly 'should be thrown into the nearest available entrance to Hell.'

With that cheery thought in mind, he made his way over to the replicator. After ordering a plate of food and a cup of coffee, he sat down by an equally bleary-eyed Dr. McCoy, who was also accompanied by a food tray and mug. Their greetings consisted of a few mumbles and unintelligible grunts. The Captain drank his coffee quickly, allowing him to once again register on the sentience scale. The doctor however, still looked rather dark and brooding. Feeling much more like himself now that he had caffeine coursing through his veins, Kirk decided to engage in amiable conversation.

"So Bones, have you recovered from yesterday's incident?"

If looks could kill, the young but exciting life of James Kirk would have ended at that moment, in an undoubtedly painful, drawn out way.

"Yeah," McCoy spat. "No thanks to you and your pointy-eared demon of a sidekick."

Kirk put on what he hoped was an innocent-looking expression. "It's not my fault, or Spock's either for that matter, that you got locked in that Sickbay storage unit!" he declared indignantly. "It was just a malfunction."

"Right." McCoy fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze. "So tell me: why was it that you so desperately needed those medical records which, I've noted, you've conveniently forgotten about now? And how did it come about that the computer was so expertly keyed out to my voice commands, hm?"

"Gremlins." Kirk replied promptly, completely dead pan.

Whatever famous Kirk fabrication McCoy had been expecting, it wasn't that. He stared blankly for a moment.

"Gremlins?"

"Mm-hmm." Kirk averred, starting in on his bacon and eggs. "Nasty little buggers. Been wreaking havoc all over. Ship must have an infestation or something."

"Well," the doctor snorted, back on track now. "I know of one green- blooded gremlin that had better watch out. And the same goes for you too." He pointed a menacing finger. "I'm gonna pull one over on you two so hard, you won't know which way is up!"

"And what, per se, is going to be your method of mass confusion?" Kirk smirked, completely unfazed. "A golf ball hidden amongst our spaghetti and meatballs?"  
McCoy was nearly growling, but Kirk wasn't worried. It would probably take the doctor at least a month to think up a scheme, and even longer to actually carry out the plot.

It was then Kirk noticed that Spock was standing nearby, speaking into the replicator. Having been concentrated on McCoy's threatening, he hadn't seen the Vulcan enter the Hall. McCoy followed the Captain's gaze.

"If it isn't ol' bright-eyed and bushy tailed," he drawled. "Oughta be a law against anyone looking that alert this early in the morning."

Spock strode over to their table and placed his tray, which held only a few slices of fruit, beside Kirk.

"You need to eat more, Spock," McCoy barked in way of greeting. "I can deal with you not liking to eat much lunch, but the last thing I need is an anorexic Vulcan on my hands."

"Good morning to you as well," Spock said calmly. "I assure you, I have no desire to take such extreme measure. I simply have no appetite today. Besides," -an eyebrow quirked upward-"I thought that you were a doctor, not a nutritionist."

McCoy's eyes glittered with the challenge.

"Well, there's nothing I like better than a feisty Vulcan!"

Kirk watched as his two friends sparred. The other occupants of the Mess Hall listened too (as inconspicuously as they could) and many appeared to be taking notes. From what Kirk had heard, the Science Department kept a running list of McCoy's best insults, to read as a moral raiser whenever Spock worked them too hard.

It was hard to keep up with. The subject fluxuated often, as McCoy tended to change the topic whenever Spock started to get the upper hand in an argument. After awhile, with his breakfast long gone, Kirk realized his shift was due to start soon. He waited for a lapse in the heated debate (which came only when they paused to draw breath) and said,

"I'm heading to the Bridge. You fine gentlemen stay out of trouble now." Then, just to stir up the conversation-"You know, I think you two are more alike than you may realize."

Kirk left to the sound of both officers forcefully voicing their objections to that statement.

TBC

It has a plot, I swear! We'll get around to it eventually, I promise!


	2. Chapter 2

-1Discl. Not mine, blah, blah blah. (I know: how articulate am I)

Chapter Two

A few hours later, the Captain was sitting on the Bridge, content that all was well in the world. The Enterprise traveling idly at Warp Three to Starbase Four; the environmental systems humming gently; Sulu and Chekov talking quietly; the sneezing Vulcan by the science station-

Wait a minute. Kirk turned and looked. Indeed, Spock was in the midst of a rather violent sneezing attack, one hand cupped over his face, the other placed supportively on the sensor hood. When the fit did not immediately subside, Kirk hit the panel on his armrest.

"Doctor McCoy, would you please come up to the Bridge?" He started to get up, then punched the panel again. "And bring a handkerchief."

That done, he walked over to his First Officer's side. Spock saw Kirk coming and tried to stifle himself. This did little good, as the force of the pent-up sneeze sent Spock flying backwards into his chair. A bit concerned, but mostly amused, Kirk clasped Spock's pale hand and hauled him back up to his feet.

"You don't look so hot," Kirk told him jokingly. Although, from what he'd gathered from whispered conversations, quite a few females aboard the ship would beg to differ with that statement.

"I would imagine so," Spock replied, somewhat raspily. He looked rather annoyed at his body's unwillingness to cooperate. He gave another sneeze, this time followed with a hacking cough.

"Looks like you've got the flu," Kirk said sympathetically.

"Glad to hear you finally got that medical degree Jim," came a voice from the turbolift, and Dr. McCoy walked onto the Bridge. Apparently, Spock looked bad enough for McCoy to automatically assess him as the one in need of a doctor, because he went right over to him.

"Here," McCoy said, brandishing a pink lacy handkerchief stitched with the initials 'LM' at the Vulcan, who took and promptly sneezed into it.

"You actually have a handkerchief?" Kirk asked, impressed.

"Yeah," McCoy admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed. "My mom went through a sewing stage for a while, and she made this for me." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Don't know where she got the impression that I like pink from though."

Kirk grinned wickedly.

"Well, there was that incident with the pink dress when you-"

"Okay!" the doctor declared loudly, ignoring Uhura's sniggering and turning his back to the Captain. "I've got a patient to attend to, if you don't mind."

McCoy gave Spock a glancing over, then, absent-mindingly reverting back to his 'old country doctor' ways, placed a hand on Spock's forehead.

"Yowch!" he exclaimed, yanking his hand back after only a moment. "You're hotter than Hell, Spock!"

Apparently, Spock felt well enough to raise an eyebrow. "It does not surprise me, Doctor, that you would personally know the conditions of Purgatory."

McCoy scowled. "I'm going to attribute that remark to you fever-addled mind. Now come on, you're probably infecting me and half the Bridge crew. Sickbay, march!"

Spock said that he was fine, but his arguments, being punctured with sneezes and coughs, weren't very convincing. McCoy looked like he was about the bodily steer the stubborn Vulcan out, but luckily he didn't have to resort to such extreme measures.

"Go on, Spock," Kirk said with a wave of his hand. Then, he remembered the doctor's earlier threats, of which he had forgotten to warm Spock about. At the moment, McCoy's only apparent concern was to herd Spock, (who looked as though he was about to be taken to the executioner's block) to Sickbay.

'Oh well,' Kirk thought absently. 'Bones wouldn't put his 'confusion conspiracy' into action while Spock was in Sickbay anyways...would he? Nah.'

He put the whole matter in the farthest, dustiest corner of his mind (normally reserved for Purposely Forgotten Memories, such as the time his girlfriend had dumped him, and Psychologically Scarring Experiences, such as the incident with McCoy and the dress) and thought no more of it.

TBC

Lady-Christian-Knight88: Well, Im hoping that you found this chapter as funny as the first. Im gonna try my hardest to keep it humorous

TrekkieGirl: Well, Ive often had very similar thoughts as Kirk did, but in my case its pertaining to early morning school shifts...but glad that you're liking it!

Jack Sparrow fanatic: thanks! And here is the next chapter, up for your viewing pleasure!

ChocolateBetazoid : Im glad that you are enjoying it! This is my first humor fic, and all the positive feedback is wonderful!

Meakashi Gosterful: Oh, I never have any problems taking my time, believe me. I'll just have to make sure not to take too much time between postings!

Bug the Slytherin: I cant tell you that, it might give the plot (however small of one there is) away! Hehe. But I'll tell you this...yah, you're right.

Teller of Tales: Why, thank you! I figure, hey, I'd take notes if I was there. McCoy spits out some good insults.

CarboHolic: Hmm...now I have to submit a well rounded reviewer response! (Im really not very good at these things) But thank you! Im honored to hear that you read it twice!

SkimbleShanks: Yes they did, which is more than I can say for myself during class...I write chapters instead!

Schemr: Yes, they keep me quite busy! And Im glad that you're enjoying this so far. And those gremlins, man, they wreck everything around my house.

(I kinda suck at reviewer responses today, sorry)


	3. Chapter 3

Disc. The closest I've ever come to owning Star Trek was when I was being nurse to my mom and I told her to 'just call me Bones' Other than that...nothing.

Sorry it's taken me so long!! And I AM working on NMIS too, so don't worry. It'll get posted...eventually. Serious writer's block.

Chapter Three

The first thing that Kirk noticed upon entering Sickbay was that it was strangely empty. The next thing he noticed no doubt accounted for that. The raised voice of Doctor McCoy could heard, giving Spock a stern lecture. The unfortunate Vulcan had apparently lost his voice somewhat, a fact that McCoy was taking plain advantage of.

Deciding that he really didn't want to get involved with in this, and remembering that he had something extremely important to do, (like sorting his sock drawer), Kirk tried to make a quiet exit. But, fate wasn't going to be that kind.

As the Captain would later complain, a stray hypo 'leaped viciously' out at him from atop a table. (Spock would then state that Kirk had bumped into the table himself.) Whatever the case, the hypo fell to the floor with a loud clatter, announcing Kirk's presence to the world.

As Kirk glared at the offending piece of medical equipment, resisting a strong urge to kick it, McCoy sauntered over.

"Hello there, Jim," he drawled. "I was just informing your First Officer-" he shot a glance back toward the direction he'd just come from-"about the merits of such magical activities as sleeping and eating, and about what happens when those activities are neglected. Now, go tell him that I'm right."

Firmly telling himself that he was _not_ going to let McCoy bully him around, (and now nursing a desire to kick the doctor) Kirk shook his head.

"I'm not getting into this, Bones. I just came to see how Spock is doing."

The doctor scowled.

"Fine," he said, heading for the patient ward with Kirk following. "As far as I can tell, he's got the Vulcan version of the flu, though they've got a much more complicated name for it, of course."

The Captain grinned.

"Well, I _did_ work hard for that medical degree."

It took McCoy a moment to recall his earlier comment about Kirk's diagnosis.

"Yeah, I'm sure you did," he finally answered, walking over to study the scanners above Spock's bed.

Spock was sitting up, looking rather pale and tired, with shadows around his eyes, but otherwise healthy. His expression was, as always, barely readable, but had it been translated into human, it would have suggested something along the lines of 'Just shoot me now.' None the less, he still gave Kirk a nod of greeting.

"Hey Spock," Kirk said. "Glad to see you've stopped sneezing. How long are you in for?"

Spock cleared his throat a few times and managed to raspily reply- but not before he shot what could _almost_ be called a scathing glance at McCoy.

"My attempts to elicit that information only resulted in a harangue."

Kirk gave McCoy a Look.

The doctor started to jump into another speech, then realized that doing so would only verify Spock's statement.

"You're stuck here until tomorrow afternoon," he said finally, admitting defeat. "Unless something new develops."

Spock nodded.

"In that case," he said, "I must ask a favor. I will need someone to..." he trailed off, obviously _not_ eager to continue.

"To...what?" Kirk prodded, his curiosity piqued.

"Feed my cat," Spock finished reluctantly.

Two pairs of human eyebrows shot up.

"Your _cat?_" McCoy sounded both shocked and dubious. "You don't have a cat!"

"I have recently acquired one, for short-time ownership. It is for an experiment."

Kirk was aghast.

"Spock!" he cried, "You're experimenting on a _cat?!_" A sudden image of a satanic-looking Spock, holding a tricorder and a pitchfork, towering over a helpless kitty, popped into Kirk's mind.

Spock must have realized what his words would sound like to an illogical human, because he explained further.

"Not in any harmful manner, I assure you. I am merely trying to better understand human emotions."

McCoy have Kirk an extremely worried look.

"Jim, I thing he's sicker than we thought," he said gravely.

Spock permitted himself a small sigh.

"Doctor, you misunderstand me, as usual. I certainly have no desire to _emulate_ humane emotions, simply to study them. I find it fascinating, albeit illogical, that rational, adult beings can become so attached to such animals. I am curious as to what makes these 'pets' so endearing."

The Vulcan's tone and expression were both so dead serious that he might have been discussing pyrotechnics instead of felines. Kirk dearly wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but restrained himself. McCoy apparently did not have such restraints, for he looked about ready to throw out a laughing insult. His intentions were cut short when the Captain stepped forcefully on his foot.

Ignoring the doctor's cries of "Yowch Jim, what was that for!", Kirk said,

"Sure Spock, we'll feed your cat. How often?"

The First Officer let a glimmer of relief show.

"Tonight and tomorrow morning will suffice. The food is in my quarters, along with a chart which will tell you how much food to give him."

"Alright then," McCoy said, carefully placing his weight on his uninjured foot. "By the way, what's your cat's name?"

"I seem to have reached an impasse in that matter," Spock admitted. "Most often, humans tend to give extremely illogical names to their pets, or so I have noticed. Therefor, a logical name would not be adequate for the accuracy of my study. However, having a rational mind, I am unable to come up with anything suitably illogical."

McCoy sighed and shook his head.

"Well, you let me know how that works out." His voice dropped and he grumbled to himself. "Crazy pointy-eared philosophies..._pointy-eared_..." The doctor's ice-blue eyes suddenly sparked with an idea, then with a mischievous gleam. Then, his demeanor abruptly changed.

"Ya know Jim, you should probably get back to the bridge," he said, in an almost lax-a-daiseal way. "I'll take care of the little guy tonight."

Spock and the Captain both raised their eyebrows at this sudden, suspicious display of magnanimity

"What?" McCoy demanded self-defensively. "I feel sorry for the poor cat. Betcha he doesn't have any jingle balls to play with or anything, huh?"

A jerk of an eyebrow.

"Jingle balls?"

"See what I mean?" McCoy said to Kirk, effectively distracting him from his suspicions. "All that critter's got for company is Tons-of-Fun here." He jerked a thumb in Spock's direction.

Kirk couldn't help it. He laughed. Yep, same old doctor, just being ornery. There wasn't anything to worry about. He started to walk off.

"Okay, Im going back to the Bridge. See you at breakfast." Then, with a backwards glance-"Don't be too mean with him, Bones."

McCoy immediately adopted a look of feigned shock.

"Me? Mean to Spock?" he asked, blinking innocently. "Why Jim, I would _never._.."

The Captain strode off, missing the slightly-evil grin that spread across the doctor's face.

TBC

Sorry, I REALLY want to do replies, but I cant right now, for complicated computer reasons. Next chapter, I will just have to do long replies!!!!

Though, I am kinda tickled that everyone seemed to like the pink dress thing. I don't know where that came from, it just popped out of my mind one day. I might write a story about it sometime, or I might just leave you all to wonder....(unless one of y'all want to write about it, thats fine by me!)


	4. Chapter 4

Dis. Not mine.

I know what you all are thinking: Oh good Lord she finally updated. Yes, yes, I know. Its been a long time. Well...sorry. As for my other Trek story...my muse has been silent on that one for awhile. So, I don't know how long that's gonna take, unless one of you guys give me some inspiration...you know, like lots of long, inspired reviews. NMIS didn't seem to attract very many people with its last chapter. But I'm not bitter...

Also, I am now an extremely proud AUNT! The proud aunt of Evelyn Joy Kerr, who is the cutest, sweetest and most perfect baby ever born. Not that I'm biased...

Anyways, MOVING ON. I'm afraid that this chap. might have more than the average number of typos, since I'm on a new computer, and I haven't got Microsoft Word completely calibrated the way I like it. So, feel free to correct me. Even feel free to point and laugh at me. As long as its not in a public place.

Chapter 4

"Good morning!"

Kirk looked up to see a disgustingly cheerful Dr. McCoy bounce onto the bridge.

"Hey Jim. Sorry I wasn't at breakfast this morning. Work to do, you know. Starfleet sent me some...ah, _forceful_ reminders that I'm a _bit_ behind on my paperwork."

Kirk raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"A _bit_ behind, huh. And you actually listened to them?"

McCoy scowled.

"A few of the reminders included some not-so-subtle phrases like 'under penalty of death.'"

Kirk shook his head in amusement, and more than a few of the other bridge officers exchanged grins. The doctor was notorious for neglecting to send in his reports.

"Besides," McCoy continued, leaning casually against a nearby panel, "it was either work on that, or sit around talking to Spock."

"Glad to know that you place so much emphasis on doctor-patient relationships," Kirk said dryly. "By the way, how is Spock?"

"He'll be out of my care and back on the bridge by this afternoon. Ideally, he should be sleeping right now. Realistically, he's probably reprogramming the Sickbay computers." McCoy's face grew thoughtful. "I'm going to have to yell at him about that later."

Not wanting the doctor to start his usual 'Vulcans make lousy patients' rant, Kirk changed the subject.

"So, how did the pet-sitting go?"

McCoy stared blankly at the Captain.

"What?"

With a growing sense of dread, Kirk tried to prod his friend's memory.

"Remember the cat? Spock's cat that you were supposed to feed for him?"

McCoy's eyes went wide.

"Oh. Whoops."

Kirk leaned forward and fixed the physician with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You _forgot? _That poor cat has no food?"

McCoy shuffled his feet, trying not to meet the Captain's eyes. "Well, I..."

"Bones," Kirk exclaimed, "no matter how much Spock annoys you, that's no reason to try and kill his cat!"

Before McCoy could lodge a protest at this over-reaction, Chekov piped up.

"Vait," he said, sounding confused, "Who is killing cats?"

"Oh, Doctor McCoy is," Sulu informed him off-handedly.

"Vhy is he doing that?"

Uhura chimed in from station.

"He's feeding the cats to Mr. Spock, I think." She looked inquiringly at Sulu. "Isn't that what they said?"

"That's what I heard," the helmsman confirmed. "Experimental medicine, perhaps."

"Doctor McCoy!" Chekov burst out, voice full of horror and accusation. "You are using cats for medicine? And...and _feeding_ them to your patients?"

The supposed feline-killer's mouth was hanging open in baffled frustration.

"What...I...you..." he sputtered. "You're all insane! I'm not going to listen to this. Let's go, Jim."

Kirk stopped grinning. "Me?"

"No, the other Jim. Come on, I'll prove to you that the cat is fine, and we can get this feeding over with.

With his hands held up in a gesture of defeat, Kirk gave over bridge command and followed the glowering doctor into the turbolift.

"I can't _believe_ this," McCoy grumbled. "_One time_, I forget to feed a cat, now all of a sudden I'm a psychopathic demon doctor?"

"Ah, lighten up, Bones," Kirk chided. "It's not like anyone actually believes that." He considered for a moment. "Well, Chekov does. And maybe the Lieutenant that was over by the science station, he was looking pretty apprehensive."

McCoy tilted his chin up with the air of a proud martyr.

"In the midst of this outrageous slander," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. "I shall stand firm. I will not be swayed or-" McCoy's declaration of goodness was cut off by the turbolift doors, which swished open. Kirk rolled his eyes at him.

"Come on, O Nobel One, let's get this done." He pushed the overly-dramatic doctor-who had frozen himself into a pose of honorable determination-into the corridor.

A few moments later they were at the entrance to Spock's quarters. Kirk issued the door code, and they trooped in, men on a mission.

Kirk looked around at the immaculate room.

"He keeps this place so clean, it's almost hard to believe that anyone actually _lives _in here," he said.

"Tell me about it. It's kinda creepy, actually. But I can fix it."

McCoy strode over to a small table that held a PADD and a neatly organized stack of computer chips. He swept his arm across the surface, and the table's contents clattered to the floor. He surveyed the scene for a second, then reached over to the perfectly-made bed and rumpled up the covers.

"Much better."

Kirk debated the wisdom of a response.

"It was like this when we got here," McCoy informed him. "Cat must've done it. You know how cats like to mess things up."

Knowing that a reprimand would have no effect on the doctor whatsoever, Kirk just heaved an exasperated sigh and gave him a Look. McCoy was apparently immune to the guilt-inflicting purpose of the Look, because he completely ignored it and asked,

"Where _is_ that cat, anyways?"

His question was answered by a soft "Mowrr?" that came from the vicinity of his ankles.

"Well, hello there!" McCoy reached down and scooped up the small brown-and-white patched cat, who purred happily.

"See, Jim, he likes me! He's not mad that I forgot one tiny feeding." He looked down at the cat. "Yeah, you're not mad at me. No, you're a good kitty, aren't ya?"

Kirk snorted.

"He's probably just trying to get closer to your face so that he can bite your nose off." He moved over near McCoy and scratched under the feline's chin. "He sure is a funny-looking fellow. His ears and whiskers seem too big for his face."

"_Mrrow_!" was the indignant response.

"Aw, you hurt his feelings, Jim. I guess you'll just have to redeem yourself by going and looking for the food."

"Didn't Spock tell you where it was?"

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't exactly paying attention to what he was saying. I'm sure it's in a logical place. Oh, and he did say something about a chart."

They both started hunting around. It wasn't long before Kirk came across a chart displayed on a computer.

"Here Bones, I think this is it."

Still cooing at the cat in his arms, McCoy leaned over Kirk's shoulder.

The chart was extremely detailed, recording, day by day, the cat's food consumption, weight, and other similar subjects.

McCoy gazed at it intently.

"Remind me to tell Spock how persnickety he is."

"I'm sure that you'll manage to remember it just fine by yourself."

"Hmm. Yesterday isn't marked on here."

"I wonder why," Kirk deadpanned.

"Well, I'll just make something up and add it in here. Spock doesn't need to know about the whole mix-up."

McCoy tried to set down the cat, but the cat seemed to disagree with that, because he dug in his claws for all he was worth.

"Ow! Now, that's not very polite. Cut that out!" He looked pleadingly at Kirk. "A little help?"

With effort, the two of them managed to detach the animal from the doctor's uniform. He yowled a bit, then contented himself by latching on to Kirk.

"I think Spock needs to give his pet more attention," McCoy mumbled as he typed information into the chart. "There we go. Now, where's the food..."

"Why don't you try that cabinet?" Kirk indicated the above cupboard with a nod.

McCoy reached up and opened the small doors. Immediately, a cascade of dry cat food poured out from a sack inside the cabinet, showering down on him. The sudden force, coupled with his surprise, knocked him to the floor.

Kirk looked down at McCoy, who spat out a mouthful of kibble. The cat leapt from Kirk's arms, climbed into McCoy's lap, and started licking his face.

"Now you know how I felt when those tribbles landed on me," Kirk said. "Except, my experience was a lot furrier."

"Great, now I'm going to smell like cat food all day."

"I'm sure it will do nothing but enhance your kindly disposition."

"Oh, shut up."

As McCoy got to his feet, shaking cat food dust out of his hair, Kirk peered into the cabinet, planning to remove the now-empty sack. As he did so, something caught his eye.

Near the very back, a small, cloth-wrapped bundle sat in the corner. A section of the cloth has slipped, revealing a glimpse of what it contained.

"What in the _world_..."

"What?" McCoy asked, not bothering to look up from where he was wiping food from his uniform.

Kirk's curiosity couldn't be contained. He reached in and wrapped his fingers around the object. He drew it out, unwrapped it...and stared, with a mixture of shock and confusion at what he held.

"What?" McCoy repeated, coming over. Then, he saw what Kirk held, and stopped dead.

"Well...hell."

****

TBC

What could it be? My oh my, the suspense! Oh, and I haven't yet decided if I'm going to name the cat or not...Who knows, I might have the Enterprise crew hold a contest...I never can tell what ideas will pop into my mind. And once they pop in there, they often refuse to leave. They eat all my food and lose my homework. Out, Plot Demons, OUT I SAY!

ahem Sorry 'bout that...anyways,

Jasmin Rain: Aww.. you're making me blush, really. It's always great to have new people find my stories. Glad to have to here at Cheri: Nah, of course you're not biased...but I appreciate it anyways! Love ya!

HarryEstel: Yah, you just can't beat the Enterprise Three...I always enjoy throwing them at each other in banteral combat. (Hmm.. not sure if 'banteral' is a word...oh well. Writer's liberty.)

P.I.D.: Cats rock my socks _off, _and then they rock them _back on! _Sorry to hear about your mom's feline-denial. Maybe my story could inspire her to...well, probably not. But it's a nice thought.

Sadie Elfgirl: Well, if McCoy doesn't already know the conditions, he might now. The conditions of Forgetful-Petsitters-Purgatory...Where did _that_ came from? I need a nap...But I'm glad that you're enjoying this!

Empress Leia: Cats' ears are pretty much pointed already though. So are the ears of my dog, actually, but he's a bit strange. You're on the right track though!

sunny-historian: Yeah, I had a black cat that _kinda_ looked like Spock...if you really thought about it, and if you squinted _really_ hard. I haven't yet decided what I'm going to do about the pink dress thing. It probably won't come up again in _this _story, but then again, you never know. :)

Bug the Corellian: It's the law of Bad Mental Images, I think. I'm with you- I can't wait to see where this will go! Because I don't really even know yet...

Thank you all! Reviewers will receive free salmon-flavored kibble!


	5. Chapter 5

First order of business: the sheepish apology. I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to get this updated! I have the usual excuse: I do have (or at least, I like to think that I have) a life outside of Star Trek and fan fiction. And sometimes, said life gets the better of me. But, I'm here now, and that's all that matters, right? I'm trusting that you all can find it within your hearts to forgive me. So, here we go!

**Chapter Five**

"Is this what I think it is?" McCoy asked.

Kirk blinked down at the now unwrapped bundle sitting oh-so-innocently on the palm of his hand.

"I do believe it is, Bones," he answered slowly.

"You say it first."

"It's…he swallowed. "It's a pair of pointed ears. Prosthetic ones."

McCoy sighed. "That's what I think too. Well, at least I know I'm not hallucinating."

"Or at least, you're not alone in your hallucination."

Considering this, they both stared, dumb-founded, at the puzzling objects. Kirk felt strangely cheated, as though fate was playing a mean trick on him. Mob bosses he could deal with. Old Western gunfights, those he could handle. But this was just too much. Other captains never found pairs of prosthetic pointy ears in the quarters of their Vulcan officers. It just didn't happen. So why him?

Their trance was finally broken by the cat who, not wanting to be ignored by these entertaining strangers, let out a loud squawk of indignation, making them jump. McCoy obligingly plopped down and the cat clamored eagerly onto his lap.

Still feeling a little dazed, Kirk sank onto the floor opposite the doctor.

"Why…" He was having trouble getting his thoughts to connect. "Why would Spock…"

McCoy ran a hand through his hair. "Beats the hell out of me. Ow!" The doctor's furry friend had starting prancing around in circles, kneading his claws into McCoy's leg. "Settle down, will ya?"

Kirk was holding one of the ears between his fingers, twirling it around absentmindedly. He didn't even register what he was doing until McCoy looked up and squinted at the rotating ear.

"Let me see that for a second."

Kirk handed them over, and McCoy scrutinized them, his brow furrowed as though he was in the midst of a complicated surgical procedure.

"You know, there's something strange about these."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "You mean besides he fact that it's a pair of prosthetic ears that we found in the quarters of our Vulcan officer?"

"Ha ha, very funny. Seriously though, I-" And expression of sudden realization washed over his face.

"What, Bones?"

McCoy held the ears up, side by side. "Look Jim, what's wrong with this picture?"

He couldn't see what Bones was talking about. The poor doctor was probably just cracking up under the strain, something that Kirk could certainly identify with; he was feeling a little crazy himself. But, to humor his colleague, he focused his attention to the matter at hand. Both ears were the same size, the same color. The tips of the ears both pointed to the left--hold on.

"They're the same ear!" he blurted out. "But that would mean…"

McCoy nodded slowly, in an 'you're-on-the-right-track' sort of way.

Kirk felt his eyes involuntarily widen. "No." He shook his head. "No way. There is no _way_ you're suggesting that…"

"You know Jim, when I was a boy, I had a dog that was half sheltie, half Australian sheepdog."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Hold on, hear me out. Now, shelties have ears that flop over, and sheepdogs' ears stand up straight. You'd think that, in a mixed breed, one ear type would be dominant over the other. But _my_ dog-"

Kirk had a sickening feeling that he knew where this was going.

"Let me guess," he sighed. "Your dog had one straight ear-"

"-and one floppy ear," McCoy confirmed. "A classic case of co-dominant hereditary traits. Therefore, it would hardly be, excuse my language, _illogical_ to assume that Spock, as a Vulcan/Human hybrid would…"

He trailed off, and Kirk knew the reason why. They'd been dancing around the issue, an impromptu tango of insinuating statements and vague suggestions. Both men were thinking the same thing, but neither of them wanted to be the one to voice it, to give life to the crazy thought. After all, if it turned out to be wrong, the majority of the embarrassment would no doubt fall on the first person who'd spoken it. It was a tricky bit of verbal choreography, but Kirk was no amateur. So McCoy was going to try to force _him_ into admission? Well, _two _could play at this game.

"Come on now, Bones. You're his doctor. You of all people should know about it." He was careful to maintain a certain amount of ambiguousness in his response. Thank God for pronouns. McCoy was momentarily set back a pace, but quickly regained his momentum

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You would have noticed."

"No, I wouldn't have. Besides, _you're_ the captain."

"So?"

"_So_, you should know these kinds of things about your first officer."

"What kind of things?"

"Don't toy with me, Jim. You know what I'm talking about."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"_Yes, you do!_"

"_No I don't. _Why don't you explain it to me?"

"Damnit Jim!"

"What?"

McCoy threw his hands up in disgust.

"Aw hell, this is _stupid_." He drew a deep breath. "One pointed ear! We're both thinking that Spock only has one pointed ear, and that's why he's got these spare prosthetics lying around! There, damnit, I said it!"

Startled by this sudden outburst, the cat gave a shriek of protest and bolted for the sanctity of under Spock's bed, leaving three bloody gashes on McCoy's legs. The doctor stared down at these for a moment, then dropped his head into his hands.

"I should've stayed in Georgia," he muttered through his fingers. "People in Georgia don't have to deal with these kinds of situations. I could've opened up a nice little clinic, fixing broken bones and delivering babies. But noooooo, I had to up and join StarFleet, so that I could saddled with stuff like _this_."

Kirk watched him for a moment, not entirely sure what to do. Fine time for McCoy to hit his midlife crisis. He had to snap him out of it.

"Bones, there's something that you're failing to realize," he said quietly.

McCoy glanced at him from over his fingertips.

"What, that my life is an empty wasteland of hyposprays and pig-headed Vulcans?"

"Well yes, that, and…" -he paused a moment and leaned in dramatically- "if this theory" -he gestured at the ears- "turns out to be correct, you can tease Spock about it _for the rest of his life_."

Slowly, McCoy raised his head, numbly absorbing this fantastic turn of fate. The grin that spread across his face happened so fast that Kirk half-expected a resulting sonic boom. The next thing he knew, McCoy was tugging him to his feet.

"Come on, Jim! This could be the best thing that's happened to me all year. I could-" he paused. "No, wait, I've got to be professional about this." He tugged at his uniform with what Kirk thought was a futile attempt at composure. Then McCoy cleared his throat and marched over to the nearest wall-comm.

"McCoy to Sickbay."

"Chapel here. What is it, doctor?"

McCoy gave Kirk a conspiratorial wink. Kirk smiled back weakly but all he could think was that no good could possibly come from this.

Blissfully unaware of his captain's doubts, the doctor continued.

"Could you go peek in on Mr. Spock and tell me his current condition?"

Kirk guessed that Nurse Chapel had probably been hovering at Spock's bedside ever since McCoy had left. His suspicions were confirmed when she answered promptly, without any need to go and check.

"Well, his fever has gone up and that, plus the medication, has made him a little disorientated, but it's nothing serious. He-"

"I'd better come and check on him anyway," McCoy interrupted, practically bouncing up and down in excitement. "I'll be there in must a minute. McCoy out."

He spun around to face Kirk, who stepped back a pace when he saw the gleam in the doctor's eyes.

"This is perfect, Jim!" He rubbed his hands together with obvious glee. "What better time to question him about it then when he's already a little loopy?"

Actually, Kirk was starting to feel a little loopy himself.

"Wait a minute, Bones. You're telling me that you plan to take blatant advantage of your sick patient's physical status, merely for your own personal entertainment?"

He waited for a response, preferably a guilty one, although he realized that this was an impossible dream. A dream that was thoroughly crushed when McCoy nodded enthusiastically.

"I thought you said you were going to be professional about all this!" Kirk pointed out, in a last-ditch attempt.

McCoy snorted. "To hell with that! This is gonna be great!"

And with that, he strode out the door without a backward glance. With a sigh, Kirk jogged off after him, dreading what he knew was bound to happen.

**TBC **

Okay folks, one more chapter and then I should be done with this story! By the way, the thing about the sheltie mix: totally true. My dog, Bean, is ¾ sheltie, ¼ Australian sheepdog, and he has one floppy ear and one straight ear. It's really cute, actually.

I wasn't really planning on doing reviewer response, but I figure that I owe to you guys. My creative juices are a little stalled at the moment though, so forgive me if my responses aren't exactly the epitome of wit.

**LA Suka**: Well, I haven't finished it yet, but we're one step closer!

**Ashirum:** Don't worry about coherence--my reviews never make much sense. Thank you, and I hope I can continue that natural humor! I'll sure try!

**Tira's Host:** Don't we all wish that. Good luck with the cat-catching!

**Silmirof4077:** I'm glad that you like it! Here's your update!

**Chrisy Agitado:** Well, making people laugh is my favorite thing! I'm glad you enjoy it!

**Invader Kiri: **I know, I have a real problem with the updating. I think it's a disease, seriously. But maybe I'm a little bit cured, now that I have this chapter up!

**Cerrita**: Thanks! I worry a lot that I might not be staying totally true to the characters, so I'm glad that you think I'm on the right track!

**Schematization**: Thanks for all the input! I love getting your long reviews and reading all your thoughts about the story!

**Neral Idazmi:** Hey, this time it was only….seventeen months. Whoops.

**StarTrekObsessed:** I know what you mean about the cheesy fics. I'm trying to avoid too much of that in this story, so I'm glad that you like the 'semblance of intellectualism'. (I like that phrase!)

**Izzy:** No, the idea didn't really come from that. My mom came up with the cat idea, actually, and she was just so thrilled with herself that I had to put it in there. But I'm glad that she suggested it, since everyone seems to like it!

**The Tribble Master**: I really AM working on NMIS, for real for serious I swear. (Thaat's a real nice sentence. I shure no mi enjlish langage.) I'm just sort of….stuck. It's complicated. But I'm glad that you're so interested in it!

**Aura Starfire:** I know, I'm real bad about that.

**Fractal Pattern**: Well? Were you disappointed by the actual discovery? (I hope not! J)

**KaliAnn:** Yeah, being an aunt is the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm thinking that, perhaps in a sequel-type fic, I might have the crewmembers hold a contest to decide the name!

**Dada Baggins:** Thanks! I really appreciate the compliment. Hopefully I can keep the chapters coming!

**Furiae Knight**: Hey, I like salmon! Mmmm…salmony goodness. I think my cat used to eat turkey flavored kibble, actually.

**HarryEstel:** Sorry that I didn't update sooner, but here it is now!

Okay, as a note, I really do want to eventually finish No Moon In Space, for those of you who are wondering. I'm just hitting some tough plot problems, and I'm afraid of making it too long. I don't want to drag it out for twenty more chapters or anything like that, although I probably could, what with all that I've got planned for it. I'm worried that it's getting too tedious, and I want to keep it interesting.

Thanks everyone! Feedback is appreciated!


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